


When Love was... Precious Stones

by december13



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, JBweek2017, More Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/december13/pseuds/december13
Summary: JBweek2017 happened. And it was glorious!I tried to contribute.





	1. The New Surroundings aka Silver

**Author's Note:**

> There were prompts. 
> 
> I had no idea if I'll be able to answer the said prompts (still not sure I managed!), so I've posted these little ficlets in that monstrous collection of mine called All the Small Things (chapters 129 to 135).
> 
> Now, being that I wrote... words... There are needed words. 
> 
> So, in the name of JB, their week and JBweek2017, I present you its own collection... That some of you already read and liked and commented on.

The pain he felt in his head was nothing compared to the cold and wetness he felt under him. He was lying in the snow, trying to understand the whole new situation he was in; the quick assessment of the surroundings told him that he was on a friendly turf... well, as _friendly_ as the Stark land could be for a Lannister. Even quicker assessment of his own body told him that his parts (even those... _especially_ those... hidden in his trousers) were intact - minus the hand he had already lost. The only thing left was to try and uncover why was he sprawled on the ground.

"Bloody fuckin' hell!"

"S - ser Bronn?!"

"If it isn't Podrick fuckin' Payne! What are you doing here waving that wooden stick, boy?"

"I'm... I'm on a lookout, S - ser."

"And how much of a lookin' did you do?"

"Ser?"

"I don't see any hot little asses trottin' around in this fuckin' wasteland!"

"S - ser, I am here guarding..."

"Yeah, boy, I can see that. Not that you're good at it. What in the all hell were you thinkin' when you decided to hit Jaime fuckin' Lannister on the head?!"

"I was... There was... Black cloak and..."

Jaime fuckin' Lannister in question made a sound, almost like growling, trying to lift himself up; what was proving to be a difficult task now that his clothes were soaking wet with melted snow.

"Maybe we could finish that interesting conversation somewhere warmer and after you've helped me up?"

"Podrick, what is the... Ser Jaime?!"

"Lady Brienne."

"What are you... doing... here?"

"I'm getting acquainted with the snow, _hospitality_ of this land, and that stick young Payne is carrying."

"S -ser, I didn't mean to harm you, I was doing my duty..."

"Ah, and one of your duties was to hit poor cripple on the head?"

"Ser Jaime, you should stop teasing my squire."

"And a fine squire he makes. Come, lad, help me get up."

Before Podrick could come to Jaime, the yank up from strong warrior hands, _Brienne's_ hands, brought Jaime on his feet where he was met with the bluest of eyes, the moon giving them almost a silver shade and, with it, the brand new quality. Eyes that could prevent a man of shivering. Eyes that could prevent a man of going back to his once loved sister. Eyes that could prevent a man of thinking. Eyes that could make a man forget his surroundings. Eyes that could make a man forget everything and anything that existed in this world... everything except for those eyes.


	2. Justice aka Gold

"You may rise, Kingslayer, to hear your sentencing."

Jaime slowly stood up from where he was kneeling, and looked at the Dragon Queen straight to her eyes. No need to play humble. Not now. Not when her mind was obviously made up.

"Kingslayer. A man without honor. A man who killed his rightful king. A man who left king's children fatherless. A man who committed more crimes in the name of his House than anyone here present made good deeds. A man who deserves to die."

The slow murmur of approving voices broke through the silence, heads nodding in the apparent consensus. Jaime didn't chanced to sneak a glance to where Brienne was standing. He couldn't handle her being anything but strong and fierce Brienne that he loved so. Not after so much trouble of speaking in his name, defending his actions, calling him honorable. Calling him Ser Jaime.

"Only a mad person would grant you a life, wouldn't you agree, Kingslayer?"

Her eyes were violent purple, not showing a hint of warmth or empathy for him. She took a slow walk from the throne she was sitting on, coming to the last of the stairs.

"They say I inherited my father's madness. I must have, for there is no other reason to sentence you... to live."

What started as a roar of agreement died the second her words registered. The room was silent, and then a sob, Brienne's cry, muffled, pained, _relieved_ , filled the space and minds of everyone present.

"Jaime Lannister, from now on you are to be known as honorable man, a friend and a loyal subject to the throne. Kingslayer you should be no more."

"Your Grace..."

"Save your honeyed, golden words for better use, Lord Jaime. And go to Lady Brienne. She needs them more than I. She deserves them more than anyone."


	3. The Words That Rhyme With... aka Obsidian

"What did you do now?"

"Tyrion."

"I'm serious. I just saw Miss Tarth storm off with a face... like yours is - moody and dark... Jaime?"

"Nothing happened. Nothing. We had a very productive meeting with those Frey idiots, we draw up some papers, signed some deals, when idiots left we celebrated with a glass of Scotch, we were relaxed, I gave her a poem to read, she didn't say a word, I asked her if she liked it because I wrote it with her in mind and -"

"You wrote a poem. For Miss Tarth... You wrote _a poem_ for Miss Tarth?! _Brienne Tarth_?!"

"You said that I should try and -"

"And be nice to her, maybe ask her out; I said nothing about writing a poem!"

"I was, Tyrion. Being nice and all. But it wasn't working. And I asked her on a date. Three times. Just yesterday. And a day before. Today I asked her two times. The stubborn woman thought that I was joking. And maybe possibly that I am the devil. Or... that's how she looked at me. Like she was battling the idea of running away or killing me."

"So you thought writing a poem would be a good solution?"

"I thought if it was from a heart... Listen. Brienne is all about honor and dignity and high standards. And blue eyes and long legs. And she really dislikes grand gestures. Or... fakeness... Hence the poem. And I... Well, you know that I dabbled in writing. Got some accolades."

"You've got a book for shared forth place. In elementary school."

"That's not the point. And I was robbed for at least a second place! But I wasn't teacher's pet like that Baratheon bastard who-"

"While I enjoy listening to you reminiscing of glory days passed, we should focus at today's problem... Do you still have poem in question?"

"Here. Read it for yourself."

...

...

"Hmmm..."

"And?"

"I have to say that it's not bad. Your style could be a little more refined, but... not bad at all."

"I knew it! The hell is wrong with that woman?! She's all leggy and blue-eyed and... there... And I am... here... trying to-"

"Yes, yes. Leggy here and blue-eyed there, I hear you... Jaime, about the poem? What is it that you wanted to convey?"

"What do you mean? It's clear. I wanted to say that she is just like a stone, resilient, she's strong, she may appear to be cold outside, but she's passion and warmth inside, like a lava that goddamned thing is made from!"

"Ahhh, and the word you wanted to use is _obsidian_."

"Huh?"

"Obsidian, Jaime, obsidian. Not... _ophidian_. Obsidian is the goddamned thing made from lava. Ophidian is... It's snake. Also, it's a monster from Dungeons &Dragons."

"You're saying that I called Brienne, my leggy, blue-eyed Brienne, a snake and a-"

"A monster. You called her a snake and a monster."

...

...

"Brienne? _Brienne_?!? You're not a monster! You're not even a snake! I didn't want to use that word! _Brienne come back_... You are not...oph- ophydiant! You are _obedient_! Do you hear me? O-be-di-ent!"

"Jaime, it's not... Oh, boy!"


	4. Fire aka Ruby

Flames, red, hot (and painfully so), wrapped her whole body, licking the sensitive skin, leaving traces of burn and scent in their wake. Brienne's throat was hoarse, be it from screaming, be it from _fire_ , but she was unable to form words. Sensation, wrecking her whole being, made her lose the consciousness.

She was revived, refreshed, _reborn_ with light kisses on her temple and cheekbones, Jaime's fingers making small patterns on her rib cage. His voice gained the whisper quality, words of love, and life together, falling from his lips with ease and with promise of serenity and joy to come.

And in that moment Brienne realized that she could never fall out of love, _fall out of Jaime_... for as long as she lived.


	5. Home Is Where The Heart Is aka Emerald

Anyone visiting Tarth was always talking about waters surrounding the island. Waves lazily crushing to the shores, salt in the air, rich colors of the sea. For Brienne, growing up and leaving her home, being in the North and fighting, dreams of freedom were filled with Tarth's waters. Droplets kissing her skin. Seagulls dancing high in the sky. Sounds of children screaming in joy, playing in the sand.

Returning home she discovered that, while the waters remained the same - the waters of her dreams - she was drawn more to the island's land. Lush green stretching for miles, everywhere you looked. Meadows, hills, fields, forests, all were far more interesting to her than her childhood's sea. For meadows sparkled in a dawn the same way Jaime's eyes sparkled when he teased her. Hills loomed over the lands just like Jaime's eyes loomed over anyone who dared to belittle her or, worse, try to hurt her. Fields were peaceful and silent, just like Jaime's eyes were when he was sitting beside her next to a camp fire. Forests were deep and luring, just like Jaime's eyes were moments before he would kiss her.

Brienne loved Tarth's waters.

She lived for Tarth's lands.


	6. Worthy aka Sapphire

Winterfell was cold and unwelcoming. But respectful, which surprised him. Jaime believed that it had to do more with kind words few people said of him, than his own charms and wits. With kind words _one_ person said of him.

His restless eyes fell on Lady Brienne. Maid of Tarth. The only person in this whole damned place worthy of... Worthy. The only person in this whole damned place _worthy_. She was calm, stoic, her face carved in stone, determined, her back straight as an arrow, her eyes...

He found out that her eyes were unique just like she was. Alive. Strong. Vivid. Brave. Smart. Sad. Curious. Warrior. Woman. Beautiful. Her eyes were beautiful. Once he compared them to sapphires and after seeing the waters of Tarth he thought them to be sea-like. Deep and mysterious. Dangerous and peaceful. Full of life if you respected it, with promise of death if you fought it and tried to shape it to your will. Clear like the sky after the storm.

Blue.


	7. Deadly Beauty aka Valyrian Steel

For the longest of time twin blades, made from fine Valyrian steel, were parted, never to see each other again.

They cried in joy when they were finally reunited. They moaned in misery when two warriors wielding them left them in their sheaths. They hummed in appreciation every time their blades were taken care of, be it with cloth or polishing stones. They sang on the battlefield, screamed and roared at the enemy. They giggled when children or seasoned fighters said praises in the name of their deadly beauty.

Buried in the ground, hilts sending prayers to the sun above, they stood in the awe and for the first time made no sound; for The Maid of Tarth and Lion of Casterly Rock knelt in front of the heart tree, whispering words of eternal promise and love, words of forever and belonging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand there you have it!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it. Until the next JBweek...
> 
> ...or another ficlet in that other collection thingy. ;)


End file.
